


Mirrored.

by PaleAutumn



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Author Ichigo, Bondage, Don't copy to another site, Ghost Sex, Ghost Shirosaki, Horror, I Tried, Literally And Figuratively, M/M, Spirits, Supernatural Elements, Violence, he makes bad decisions but i love him anyway, there's a lot of wood, this is my very first smut scene and i'm ajfksdjf, very very hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 08:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19866589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleAutumn/pseuds/PaleAutumn
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki is a young author conducting research for his next book. Such research included ghost stories and rumors, so it was only right that he tested out every one of those superstitions. One such legend lead him to a faraway mansion in the forest where he's heard of a ghost roaming around and scaring every traveler away, however, he ends up experiencing first hand why it is so feared.





	Mirrored.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomethingSomeone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingSomeone/gifts).



> I wrote this for a very special friend of mine and I explored a few things I usually don't so it's probably not ???? the best bUT I REALLY DID WANT TO WRITE THIS FOR THEM SO I DID. CAUSE I LOVE THEM WITH MY ENTIRE BEING AND THEY'RE THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE.

Pants were coming out harshly. The only other sounds in the forest were the crunching leaves, twigs, and stones beneath his feet. Once in awhile, it was the slippage of dirt and rocks on the unkempt trail. Moss clung to several decaying steps, making it a difficult walk and climb. Not a single soul dared to draw near it, leaving Ichigo alone to trek it. 

However, he wasn't expecting it to be so tedious. Or so long for that matter. Ichigo turned around to peer at the way he came from. Stone steps extended all the way down and became a rough path that was swallowed up by the trees. He rubbed the sweat off his forehead and took a swig of his water. At this point, Ichigo regretted not having a backpack. His hands were starting to ache after having to hold a water bottle, a notebook, a pencil, and his camera. All he could do was pray that there wasn't a long way to go.

Of course, he did try to conduct some research before setting off, but there were almost no accounts of people hiking up here. Many people had given up halfway due to time constraints, physical limitations, and, the most common one, fear. Ichigo could understand. The large trees have hidden most of the sky above, leaving only speckles of light behind. Most of it was in shadow. Although, that wasn't what made his skin crawl. It was the lack of life in the forest. Like there was something keeping them off. 

If he had been anyone else, he would have stopped. If he had believed in superstitions and the supernatural, he would have stopped. Despite it all, he had always explored every supernatural based phenomenon that came up on the internet or in public when people spoke about them. Shrines that allowed people to communicate with the one they love most, curses caused by certain commercials on the television, monsters appearing in the dead of night on highways and urban areas, and the list continues on. 

He was an author after all. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on the legends, none of the rumors turned out with anything spectacular. Though the experience was good enough to write about, there was a part of him that always wanted it to be true, even knowing that it came at the cost of his life. 

All he could do was keep going. With a deep breath, he continued uphill, desperately hoping that he would catch sight of the large mansion he was heading to in the distance. According to rumors, the place was haunted. Nothing more to it since there were so few people who even reached it. Each step was extremely tiresome. His body wouldn't be able to handle anymore if the distance was too far and he dreaded that idea. 

"C'mon, Ichigo, you've done worse than this before. It can't be more than a kilometer now," he muttered to himself, forcing his legs to keep on moving. Thankfully, the ground evened out, giving Ichigo the greatest relief. Better than that, though, was the sight of the end goal.

It was still far enough away that it was impossible to make out the details, but it was there. The trees were nothing compared to the building, towering above the scenery in its own clearing. Unlike the vast greenery, the mansion looked like a deadly shadow as if the beautiful scenery couldn’t touch its darkness. Classic japanese architecture defined the structure, so it should have felt familiar. However, the sight alone triggered anxiety. Each curved edge of the roof ending in sharp points made the entire thing look dangerous along. As if it’ll come alive and attack at any movement. 

Ichigo began to have second thoughts about it, a feeling of dread blooming in his chest. Never before had he felt so unsure about the truth in a rumor. Looking back toward the trail he just came back from, he tried to imagine just how far he had travelled. From the clearing, he could make out the sun’s position, noting how it was about to reach the horizon. With a defeated sigh, Ichigo placed all his things on the ground except the camera. He attempted to take a zoomed in picture of the mansion, but the details became too muddy so he settled with a faraway shoot. It captured the atmosphere well enough. Next, he flipped open his notebook and began jotting down descriptions of his reaction at the scene. Once it was all finished up, he gathered all his things and continued onward, closer to the impending house. 

Now that the presence of the place was known, Ichigo couldn’t stop thinking about it. The walk toward it made it appear and disappear with the layout of the trees, yet it always remained on the edge of his vision. For him, time had stopped up until the moment he entered the clearing. A pale purple colored the sky, allowing enough light to illuminate the features of the mansion. It wasn’t quite as clear before, but now, Ichigo can make out the cracked wooden boards, ready to fall apart at the slightest touch. Some of the tiles were missing from the roof, the others barely holding on. Unlit lanterns hung from the entrance while brass dragons face the front porch menacingly. The young writer continued to go forward, the floorboards creaking loudly underneath his weight, enough to make him flinch. Fingers brushed over the wood tentatively, taking note of the texture, the pattern of cracks, the smell … Then he ran over the front sliding doors. The paper was ripped in several places and were beginning to gain a brown coloration around its edges. 

He didn’t believe in superstitions. Nevertheless, he got down on his knees to pay his respects to the people who once lived here, saying a respectful, “Please forgive me for intruding upon your household. I hope that you will allow me to pass by.” He bowed deeply before standing up. A trembling hand reached for the door handles, his heart hammering loudly in his ears. He slid it open slowly, finally revealing the interior. 

Ichigo stared on into the place, his thoughts stalled by the sight. His eyes flicked all over the place as he entered slowly. His camera was slowly lifted up, making sure to capture the entire room. Still wordless, he stared down at the image he took and back up at the real thing. 

“How ... is this possible?” He let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, reaching out and touching the table, the pillows, the mirrors, everything he could see. For now, he put everything but his camera on the low seated table as he examined the first room.

Contrasting heavily with the exterior, the room looked untouched by both the forces of nature and by human usage. It was pristine. The table didn’t have a speck of dust on its surface and the sitting cushions seemed to be perfectly fluffed. Even the mirrors showed no sign of wear, no cracks or dust. To Ichigo, it appeared as if someone kept the entire place clean. Regardless of what he believed or didn’t believe, something or someone had come here before. 

“No, no, think logically … Perhaps the doors being shut all the time had kept out sources of decay,” Ichigo muttered, practically chanted, to himself. Until he saw one himself, he would not believe in ghosts. Leaving his stuff behind, he moved further into the mansion, heading into what appeared to be a kitchen. Right before he stepped into it though, he caught sight of a white flash, causing him to suddenly tilt back to peer back into the main room. Nothing was there. Was he already beginning to hallucinate? Another close look came up empty handed as well. So it was nothing. 

At this point, his legs were trembling as he looked over the kitchen this time. Exactly like the first room. Almost perfect condition with each piece of furniture. The fridge was completely empty, confirming Ichigo’s theory that it wasn’t possible someone still lived here. Sighing, he decided that it’d be good to track of the layout of the place for his future novel. He turned around to return to the main room. He stopped. Eyes widened and his body froze aside from the tremors now racking his body violently. 

There were sounds. The other room was currently obscured by the wall, blocking him from seeing what was happening. He didn’t want to move from the edge of the wall. The sounds of pages flipping. They stopped. Then it was the sound of clicks. Click, click, click like the sound of buttons being pressed. He knew those sounds. His camera, his notebook …

Someone else was here. No, not that.

Something else was here. 

It was hard to breathe when the sounds finally came to a stop, the last one being all his things being placed back on the table. Nothing moved. Everything came to a standstill. Considering the size of this place, there had to be another exit. Building up his resolve, Ichigo slowly moved over to another shogi door on the other end. It felt as if his hearing was heightened as he kept on walking, the squeak of the floor flooding his senses. Not that it mattered. The thing already knew someone was in his house.

A snap reverberated throughout the house. At that moment, Ichigo sprinted over to the doors leading to another room, but ended up on his back after something had pulled at his leg and arms. With a cry of pain, he tried to scramble up. He realized very quickly that he was currently restrained. Twisting his head around, Ichigo tried to see what it was. The sight made him want to pass out then and there.

The wooden floorboards had ripped themselves off the ground, leaving earth exposed. Instead of being flattened, they were now curled around his arms, leaving them immobile behind his back. They were also wrapped tightly around his ankles, leaving him defenseless. Hoping that they were weak from age, he tried tugging at them. There was no give at all. His movements only made him wiggle helplessly on the floor.

“Don’t struggle so much. You’ll waste your energy.” A distorted voice cut through the air, making Ichigo freeze immediately. Wide eyed, he craned his head up. His breath hitched at the sight. Standing there was a figure bathed in white. His skin and his hair looked as if it had been painted over in the color. The only thing that wasn’t were his eyes. Ichigo couldn’t take his eyes off him. Those gold on black eyes felt as if they were staring into his very soul. Perhaps they were. He had a sinister grin, stepping closer to the bound man. Instantly, Ichigo slid his legs on the ground, wanting to get away. He didn’t move an inch. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening.

He didn’t believe in ghosts.

Yet the creature had only gotten closer. Bending down, he reached out, aiming to brush over the other’s cheek. Violently jolting away, Ichigo didn’t dare take his eyes off the being. Clearly, with his bounds, he couldn’t very well avoid the touch. Freezing fingers made contact with his face, eliciting a surprised gasp at it. That temperature wasn't normal. Futilely, he leaned back as far as could as the chilled touch continued to travel along his jaw. 

"You're the first human to make it up here. I'm impressed," the being said, his grin growing larger as he talked. With a wave of his other hand, the wood shifted so he sat up. "What's your name?"

Ichigo stayed silent. The horror of the situation prevented him from doing so. From the touch alone, he was shivering. Though, the other didn't seem to mind the silence. In fact, he seemed to be amused. 

"You're scared. But that's okay, it doesn't matter what you feel right now."

"Wh-what … what are you?"

"Hm? I thought you came here knowing you'll encounter a spirit."

"You’re — you’re not real. Spirits don’t exist, I —“

Laughter spilled from the self proclaimed ghost, making Ichigo's entire body shake. It was a terrible sound. 

"Look, I … I just came here to take a look, so stop playing games and --"

"Who said I was playing games? Seeing is believing isn't it?"

"You can't prove anything." Ichigo growled boldly. This was all just some sort of sick joke. He didn't know how to explain the moving floor with that fact, but the other explanation was crazy. He refused to believe it.

"Funny," the pale man responded, forming a fist with his hands. The wooden binds holding Ichigo tightened, earning him a brief shout. "I don't recall being the one restrained by the house." Instead of letting up, he let the binds tighten even further. Once the wood started to reach that point where it became painful, Ichigo began to scream. The one controlling it licked his lips at the sound, leaning in to whisper in his victim's ear.

"If seeing me isn't enough for you, will feeling me suffice?" 

"S-stop it! Please! It hurts, dear god, please …!"

With a hum, the spirit listened. "You want to say anything to me?"

Ichigo couldn't respond as he gasped for breath, recovering from the previous ordeal. "What … what are you talking about?" 

"What am I?"

Stubbornly, he stayed quiet. No way was he giving him the satisfaction. Not to mention his grin hadn't faltered once this entire time, the bastard. The only thing different he could make out was the smokey haze of black surrounding the apparition. 

"I guess that wasn't enough for you," the damned phantom remarked, waving his hand to shift Ichigo's position. Instead of remaining on the ground, the wooden hand and ankle cuffs merged with a wall just a few inches off the ground. "I think it's time for a change in tactics, don't you agree? You can call me Shirosaki by the way. You're going to need it." He finally got up, standing at his full height again.

"What the fuck are you ta --"

Approaching Ichigo, he gripped his chin harshly and tugged him forward to kiss him. Ichigo widened his eyes and began to struggle as much as he could. It wasn’t much, though, especially against the tight grip, as he kept on being ravaged. Shirosaki brought out his tongue, trying to force his way into the human’s mouth, letting out a breathy laugh at the resistance. Briefly, he took his eyes off him, an action not missed by the author. Whining softly, Ichigo gazed around, wishing for something to help him, however, the world seemed to be blanketed over. He saw nothing but a swirling darkness. Groaning at the thought, he unfortunately brought Shirosaki’s attention back over to him. Straining back, pleading that the wall could just swallow him away from the monster, he shut his eyes to escape the reality. Not allowing such a thing, Shirosaki lifted Ichigo’s shirt, trailing an icy hand up his chest while the other began to undo the pants blocking his way. Even under the pressure and fear of what was happening, Ichigo refused to open his mouth, refused to cry out. It was getting difficult as the spirit took it farther and farther. Hell, he couldn’t even turn to the side or shift his legs because of the way he was bound. Cold penetrated his body, creating violent shivers in his body. They became worse when the chill reached his sensitive spots. Fingers dug into his nipples, twisting, pulling, rolling … Ichigo found it hard to breathe with the sensations. Not long after, he gasped and cried out loudly at a particularly violent tug, giving the access Shirosaki wanted. Golden eyes reflected the joy in success before a tongue invaded his mouth. With a new appendage licking at and exploring every little thing, he instinctively bit down. Hissing in displeasure, Shirosaki willed two more wooden pieces to press into the other’s cheeks, forcing his mouth slightly open. Retracting his tongue, he moved it around in his mouth to check for damage. 

“So feisty. Doesn’t matter though, we don’t have much longer to go … ” He mumbled, dragging teeth against Ichigo’s neck. All he could hear was ragged breaths from his bound partner, unable to talk. Wanting to hear more, Shirosaki finally began stroking the dick in his hand, nails dragging over the sides occasionally. Unable to resist the pleasure and pain, Ichigo hardened in his grip. The wooden bits digging into his cheeks prevented him from closing his mouth and filtering out the sounds pouring out. He was a loud mess of sobs and screams. There was so much happening that he ended up choking on his own noises and saliva, running freely down his chin. Instead of stopping at the state he was in, Shirosaki pressed closer, bringing his head right next to Ichigo's ear. The fast paced rubbing on his cock didn't let up one bit as their bodies melded together. His noises began to crescendo as he hopelessly begged for it to stop. Without his ability to move his mouth, it only came out as mindless sounds. Through the tears, he could finally make out the kitchen through the thinning veil of smoke.

"Hm, I don't understand you," Shirosaki teased, wrapping his free arm around his waist, somehow increasing their points of contact. He gave another deep kiss before continuing, "Let's remove the things, shall we?" Right after, he let the pieces digging into his cheek recede. Ichigo was so lost in the throes of pleasure that he still couldn't fully block out the cries, but he could finally speak. 

"S-stop this! I can't t-take it, Shiro … saki!! Please, please, oh God -- please!" Ichigo was having trouble taking enough oxygen. Never before had anyone touched him like this and it was beginning to be too much. His body ached. Yet the spirit only smiled deviously before squeezing the erection in his hand. The other dipped lower toward his entrance, the ankle binds forcing him to spread his legs, making Ichigo's eyes widen and his entire body to go rigid.

"N-not there, anywhere but there! D-don't, I beg you … I believe you, I believe you so stop this!"

"Who said that was what I was after?" Shirosaki responded, swirling his finger around the opening to get the other on edge. "Do you want to see what you look like?" He asked, letting the house maneuver itself to hand him the mirror in the main room. Placing it in front of Ichigo, he watched as he attempted to turn his face away in shame. Unable to do so, he could only watch as his face contorted into expressions of pleasure and fear. He could only watch as saliva and tears ran down his body. Then it was his face as two fingers thrust into his body. His head was thrown back wildly and he screamed louder than he thought possible. Together, all the sensations made him cum, back arching to accommodate for the feelings. 

"It's a shame I won't be able to do this to you again." Shirosaki whispered, taking out his fingers and letting Ichigo drop to the floor once the house let him go. However, when he looked around again, he was no longer in the mansion he entered. This time, there was only darkness. The only source of light was coming from a panel of glass that looked into said mansion. Shirosaki's face was framed in there at the moment. A victorious grin was present on his face as the window showed the moving toward the first room again, where he was mounted on the wall facing the entrance. 

"What … what the fuck is happening?" 

"You're trapped in the mirror."

"What?"

"You heard me. You're in the mirror. And you're going to stay there while I enjoy the outside world."

Ichigo was speechless. This sort of thing … it was impossible wasn't it? Nevertheless, this entire situation was impossible. Quickly pulling up his pants, he ran over to the window pane and hit it as hard as could. It didn't do anything. At the futile attempt, the Shirosaki laughed, tapping the mirror with his finger. 

"You're so cute in there. You won't get out anytime soon."

Without taking the words to heart, Ichigo kept on hitting the glass. He had to get out. Shirosaki's face angered him, scared him. It didn't help that he was still laughing. 

"C'mon, don't be like that. It’s not that bad … for the first few years.”

“Shut up!” He yelled, letting the frustration get the better of him. He clenched his fists and growled at his captor before lowering his arms. It really wasn’t doing anything. “Just shut up and explain at least. This whole thing … what was the goddamn point?” 

Shirosaki hummed at the sudden anger, moving away from the mirror to the front doors. Sliding it open, he looked into the outside world. With a breathy laugh, he stepped out of the place into the forest.

“Think of it like an exchange. This horrid place has this obsession with taking and keeping souls, so it doesn’t let them leave. No stepping out of this place. Unless,” he turned back around, facing Ichigo, “Someone else takes your spot. I give it your soul for mine. So I’m free while you,” he seemed to teleport over to the mirror again, making the trapped writer jump back, “are trapped. Isn’t that fair?”

“Cut the bullshit, Shirosaki! You know damn well what you did wasn’t fair and it certa --”

“Thousands of years.” He cut him off, his smirk falling into a frown. “I’ve been stuck in this mansion for thousands of fucking years. I don’t give a shit about fair. I’m going to enjoy the freedom I have now. I could shatter this mirror right now and you would never see the light of day again, so stay quiet.” Without another word, he left the place, sliding the doors closed.

Ichigo slumped down onto the ground, burying his face into his hands. Biting his lip, he willed the tears back. He swore he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and he was planning on sticking by it. There had to be a way out. And if there wasn’t, then he’d have to make one.

Not picking up his head, not that there was anything to see anymore, he racked his brain for any ideas. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the first time he laid eyes on the spirit. It was obvious to him now that the brief white flash he initially saw was Shirosaki. He managed to materialize out of nowhere, so perhaps it’d be possible for him. That was the first step.

The physical exhaustion he felt prevented him from thinking about the future after that, though. Going through that disgusting act … He didn’t think it’d take so much energy, especially on the receiving end. Shuddering at the fresh memory, he lay down in the darkness. He was going to make Shirosaki regret this. One way or another.

* * *

“Why didn’t you just trap me here the moment I walked in through the door? Why … why make me do that?”

“You’re so talkative all of a sudden.”

“Entertain me, Shiro.”

Snorting at the nickname, given to him out of spite more than anything, he side glanced over to the image of Ichigo in the mirror. Imagining the boredom and restlessness he was feeling was easy. After only a month or two out in the real world, he realized just how monotonous life in the mansion was. There was so much to do out there, so much to see, so much to play around with.

“Why should I?”

“You keep coming back to this place, making me watch you leave and forcing me to talk to you out of necessity at this point. You have nothing better to do here either.”

In contemplation, Shirosaki placed an elbow on the table, staring at his substitute. Nighttime had already fallen on the world, so there wasn’t a lot nearby to do. It was annoying coming back to the place of torture, yet he had no choice. It’s not like he owned an apartment or home in the nearest down.

“I couldn’t trap you the moment you came in. As much as you despise it, I had to do what I did. In fact, I made it that much better for you. You should thank me.”

“Like hell. What you did wasn’t pleasuring at all.”

“My memory says otherwise.”

“Don’t test my patience.”

“You see, the curse takes on the form of smoke. In order to pass it on to somebody quickly enough before they leave, you’d have to be in close contact with them. Intimacy. Of course, I could have just held you in my grip for awhile, but I had nothing to do.”

Taking a deep breath, Ichigo processed what he said. So he did it for his own fun. However, he couldn’t focus on that right now, not with the other information he gathered.

“You’re absolutely sick, you know that?”

“I’m the one who’s free.”

He hated it. No, he detested it. Everything about Shirosaki, everything about this entire thing. Leaning back against the glass, Ichigo waited.

“And now you fall quiet. I may end up leaving you entirely in a year, so enjoy the company while it lasts.”

“You’re assuming I enjoy it in the first place.”

“You will when you have nothing left.”

“Anything would be better than you.”

Shirosaki chuckled at the response, standing up to leave him for the night. It was still entertaining to him, seeing and talking to the other. “Well, I’m off to rest. I hope your stay has been comfortable,” he taunted, shutting off the lights and abandoning him.

Silence settled over the room. Ichigo waited for some more time, not really knowing whether that was an hour or a few minutes. Inhaling deeply, he channeled the energy swirling around him until he was in the room. The characteristic black smoke that became a part of him moved around as he slowly walked over to the kitchen area. Heading over to one drawer, having already scoured at the entire room many times before, he pulled it open, revealing a rather large knife. For once, he thanked Shirosaki for his lack of change. Grabbing the handle of the weapon, he raised it over his head, testing its weight. It would do. Curious to try another trick he’s learned, he stepped away from the drawer and raised his hand. A gentle flick of his wrist caused it to close shut quietly. In joy, Ichigo smirked, eager to finally get the plan going.

There wasn’t any way in hell that he was sticking around longer than he had to. Begrudgingly, he entered the mirror again, knife in his possession. He placed it away from the line of sight of the glass pane, praying that this idea worked. He had to escape. Whatever possible. For now, though, he had to rest up.

When Shirosaki wakes, the routine was always the same. Walk over to the main room, get ready to head out for the day, come back in late or early evening, have a little chat, and then back to rest. Rinse and repeat. The minute he stepped out of the house would be the moment the plan would be under way.

Ichigo materialized, bringing the knife out with him. There was only one thing he had to do. Motioning over to the floorboards nearest to the shogi doors, he forced the wood to curve upward. It’d be easier to activate them when they were already bent. The only thing left was to wait. Wait until the sun reached the end of its journey and until the sky darkened through the translucent paper. In order to not mess it up, he stood waiting at the edge of the door, ready to strike at any moment. When the sound of the wood steps creaking overtook the stillness, Ichigo lowered his stance.

When the sound of the doors sliding came next, he tightened his grip on the knife, still waiting for that perfect moment. White came into sight. Before he could process anything else, he lunged, the knife swiping forward.

Shirosaki widened his eyes, propelling himself back with the kick on the ground, however Ichigo had planned for that move. Motioning upward with his hand, the wood suddenly came out, blocking the entrance. Shirosaki cried out as his back impacted the blockade. Before the tip of the blade contacted him, he twisted his body around, running off to the center of the room. Ripping the knife out of the planks, Ichigo turned onto him again. He charged forward, the wood responding to his call. They broke off from the walls and ceiling, intent on keeping his opponent in place. Cursing under his breath, Shirosaki also charged forward, avoiding the material just quick enough. Grabbing Ichigo’s wrist, he forced it down and behind his back, hoping to disarm him. A ferocious growl escaped the assailant when a knee pressed into him, pressuring him to fall down. In retaliation, he made one of the blockade columns crash into Shirosaki’s spine. Hearing the crack and the fall of a body on the ground made adrenaline rush through his veins. Bemused laughter.

Before he could force himself up through the pain, Ichigo violently swiped his hand horizontally. With the power in it, an entire wall blasted apart. Each plank rushed toward the man on the ground, knocking the air out of him and holding him still now. Trying to use his own magic to get them off, Shirosaki struggled, only managing to unwind some of them. It was too late though.

Ichigo jumped onto him, knocking them both down. A knife was pressed against his throat. Black smoke churned around him frantically as it encased the both of them.

“Kill me and you’ll still remain trapped here.” Shirosaki broke another board. In response, the one on top of him only pressed down the knife further against his neck. Blood began to ooze. Exhaling sharply at the pain, he glared up at brown eyes, narrowed dangerously.

“And you know what?” He hissed out, raising the knife. “I don’t care.” He brought it down, plunging the blade into the other’s neck. With a pained screech, the entire place turned into hell. The wood cracked and broke and splintered, the sliding doors blown away by the chaos. In fear, Ichigo jumped back. Shirosaki took the blade in his neck out, letting the blood pour out. In preparation, he took on a fighting stance, his fists clenched. But instead of going forward, the pale man laughed, dropping the blade on the ground.

“Ha … I underestimated you.” He coughed up blood, before tumbling down on the ground. Golden eyes pierced through his killer one last time. He disappeared in a cloud of smoke. As if the power had faded, everything dropped back down to the ground in a loud crash, leaving Ichigo panting. Stumbling over to the kitchen, he quickly washed the blood off his hands. The water was soothing. He was alone. He wasn’t free, but …

He didn’t have to see that man again. Degenerating into a fit of laughs, he collapsed by the kitchen sink, laying there and laughing. It felt good. It felt amazing. How long he stayed there, he didn’t know. But it stopped the moment the sound of someone climbing the steps.

“What the hell ... happened over here?” A stranger’s voice.

Ichigo grinned, turning his head slightly to the passageway into the other room. Eyes glowing a shade of gold, he flexed his fingers, the wood continuing to respond to him.

It was time for the next victim. 


End file.
